


A Game of Kings

by runawayballista



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking Games, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:22:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawayballista/pseuds/runawayballista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash isn’t really sure how York and North convinced them all this was a good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Game of Kings

Wash isn’t really sure how York and North convinced them all this was a good idea. Probably because North supplied the cards and York supplied the booze (which, no doubt, had probably been smuggled in after his last leave), and most everyone was at least passingly familiar with the rules of Kings. And it was a rare occasion that they all had downtime at once, and rarer still that any of them got to taste so much as a drop of liquor, so when the suggestion came up, no one was really going to say _no_.

It started off well enough, but then, these kinds of things always do. There’s a brief scuffle over which set of rules they’re using, of course, but it gets settled quickly and everyone has a drink of their own, and they start drawing cards. With this many people playing, though, it’s not too long before they’ve gone through more than one bottle of York’s precious smuggled liquor. But it’s when Wyoming draws a king and outlaws all permutations of the word ‘drink’ that it _really_ starts to go downhill.

It’s the worst kind of rule to throw into a game of Kings unless you’re hell bent on getting everyone else fucked up, because no one can remember that they’re not supposed to say the word _drink_ , and the more penalties they take the harder it becomes for anyone to remember the rule at all. It’s even worse when North accidentally knocks over the King’s cup, and York yells at him for wasting their precious booze, and South and Wyoming immediately start calling for penalty drinks. And of course by that point, there’s a convoluted as fuck drinking chain from a combination of king’s rules and eights, and someone may as well have drawn an ace because they’re all drinking in succession now anyway.

North draws a two and points at his sister with a laugh, and all she does is spit a curse at him and reach for her cup. “Hey,” he says, grinning, “no matter who I pointed to, you’d have to take a dr -- whoops, fuck that, not gonna say it.”

“Fuck you,” South snarls anyway. “This rule is bullshit! Someone revoke it already!”

“Hey, if you don’t want to play, there’s the door,” York says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “And anyway, North picked _you_ , so you’d better tip back that cup already.”

Some people are mellow drunks -- some people got nice when they were drunk, some people changed entirely. South is not one of those people. She is the sort of person whose personality is only magnified by alcohol, and when she hears York’s casually imperious tone, something in her snaps.

“Hey, _fuck you!_ ”

She doesn’t just spit out the curse -- she leans forward and flips over the whole fucking table, cards, drinks and all, and she jumps to her feet, looking fully like she’s going to tear into York right there and then, but she staggers, sways, and instead of lunging to punch York in his stupid face, she doubles over and vomits right onto Wash’s foot.

“ _Jesus_ \-- ” Wash leaps to his feet, immediately kicking off his shoe, his faced twisted in disgust and horror. “God _dammit_ , guys! This is why we don’t play drinking games! This is why it’s _against regulation!_ ”

Of course, no one’s really listening -- North’s already on his feet with an arm around his sister, patting her on the back and leading her off to a bathroom to get her cleaned up. CT and Wyoming are staring at the puddle of sick and the mess of scattered cards and spilled drinks, lips curled, and finally CT turns her head away from it and makes an awful noise in the back kof her throat.

“Well, I think _I’m_ done drinking,” she mutters, getting up from the couch a little stiffly. Wash’s shoulders go slack, and he glares at York.

“I _told_ you this was a bad idea.”

“You said no such thing,” York scoffs, getting up to find a mop.


End file.
